


Fool's Gold

by Ammocharis, Toshi_Nama



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Avvar Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Culture Shock, Dwarven Carta (Dragon Age), Gen, Generation Gap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-30 21:28:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20103880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ammocharis/pseuds/Ammocharis, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toshi_Nama/pseuds/Toshi_Nama
Summary: Corypheus' defeat didn't mean the end of the threats to Thedas.  When smugglers kept moving red lyrium through the Holds, Inquisitor Vatna Einarsdotten decided it was time to get personally involved.  The caveat?  Morrigan's insistence that she bring a companion - one who knew the Carta the way she knew the mountains of her Hold.This was a collab challenge, and it was a blast seeing what Vatna and Farin Brosca made of their mission, those they encountered, and each other!





	1. Introductions

**(Skyhold, a short time after Corypheus’ defeat)**

The sky was painted yellow from the approaching sunset, but the outline of a falcon was still clearly visible. It dove into the Skyhold gardens, landing on a bench. Vatna walked up to him and brushed her fingers on his grey-feathered wings.

“Dark hair and beard, tattoo on his right cheek?” she said, studying the image of an unfamiliar dwarf in her companion’s mind.

“Aye. ‘Tis Farin,” Morrigan confirmed, golden light reflecting in her eyes.

“He should reach the hold by nightfall,” Vatna informed the witch.

“Thank you. I shall tell Kieran he will see his father tomorrow.” One corner of her lip twitched up. “It will be interesting,” she mused to herself, “to see what your soldiers think of him. Especially with your efforts to keep his identity private.”

“If he’s anything like you described him, I bet those unlucky souls on the guard duty will be too dumbfounded to say anything,” Vatna replied calmly. She stopped stroking the falcon’s wing and let him climb onto her gloved hand. “I’m sure you prefer your reunion to be private, Morrigan. I will leave now. If there’s going to be some problem with the guards, I’m sure you and Farin will be able to deal with them on your own. Just don’t kill anybody.”

Morrigan smiled in return. “I am certain that will be unnecessary. Until later.”

**

He grunted. “Of course. Sodding Void, woman, you couldn’t be somewhere easy to reach? I’ve got short legs.” The last three weeks had been nothing but  _ up  _ as he tried to reach this ‘Skyhold.’ By the time he got up to the gate, he was too tired to care what the hulk of stone looked like. He looked anyway. There was dwarven work here, and he could feel the faintest whispers of the Stone, but it was mostly - very  _ not  _ dwarven. Whatever - he wasn’t here to mess with rocks, he was here to see his...well, son. And Morrigan. Why she  _ insisted  _ he come when she was about to take Kieran and leave…

“Impossible bloody woman,” Farin swore at the very surprised guard. “Oh, not you. Morrigan asked”  _ summoned  _ “me to come here.”

“State your name and business,” said the female guard after she quickly composed herself.

He sighed.  _ Ancestors,  _ he hated dealing with guards. The job bred a certain level of stupid. “You’ve met Morrigan, right? Dark hair, yellow eyes, probably insulted you three times before breakfast? Well, maybe not. She does that less. Did she or anyone give you a name to ask for? That’s not like her. ‘The dwarf. He’ll be annoyed, but has an amazing moustache. Send him to me.’ That’s more like her. A ‘please’ even, if she likes you or Kieran’s around.”

The guard fumbled around and looked unsurely at her colleague. Farin tried hard to not roll his eyes, sigh, or say any of the things he was thinking. Besides, they could all be summed up with  _ ‘Guards.’ _ The other soldier shrugged, and said:

“Go in.”

He nodded and walked past. “Thank you  _ so  _ much for your attention to detail. I’ll be sure to tell someone.” Now, where would she be? Sod that. Where in this hulk would  _ Kieran  _ be? Easy. Outside. He liked wilderness as much as his parents. Farin stumped off, in search of trees. In a fortress, guarded by idiots in stupid armor. Well, he’d seen worse.  _ Sodding Chantry. Sodding humans.  _ At least, from the looks of it, there weren’t that many around. 

**

Vatna walked through the empty Undercroft. Even Dagna has left to her quarters, which was unusual. The Arcanist had a habit of staying up late, committed to her research of red lyrium. Though Corypheus had been defeated more than a moon ago and his followers scattered to the wind, red lyrium remained a threat. Blood-coloured crystals had infected vast portions of the land, and removal of this plague proved to be an arduous task. Vatna was not surprised. Red lyrium was poisoned with the Taint, or, as the Avvar called it, the Rot. What she was surprised by, however, was the report from Leliana’s informers that arrived at Skyhold two days ago. A large transport of red lyrium had been intercepted at the borders of the Avvar territory.

The mage summoned an orb of blue light and leaned over the table covered with notes on red lyrium samples which were kept in a tightly closed, enchanted container.

“ _ It doesn’t make any sense. Why would they choose to go through the Frostbacks? Surely, there must be another route that offers secrecy, but is much easier to traverse,”  _ she pondered, sending her thoughts through the invisible rope that tied her soul to the soul of a god living inside the falcon’s body.

“ _ Or they  _ ** _want_ ** _ to travel through the Frostback Mountains,”  _ Himnar suggested.

“ _ Why?”  _ Vatna asked, unsure what the god meant.

“ _ To keep lyrium in cold,”  _ he explained, and stepped off of Vatna’s hand onto the table.

“ _ Like in Sahrnia,”  _ Vatna realized. “ _ They want to keep red lyrium stable with low temperatures, even though the Mountains can be as deadly as angered lyrium.”  _ She sensed in her mind that Himnar agreed with her theory, so she continued her efforts to piece that puzzle. “ _ But where are those transports coming from? The smugglers were caught southwest of Haven. We have to find the source.”  _ She paused for a moment. “ _ I’m uneasy, Himnar. I have not received any messages from home for over a moon. Sjor would have contacted me if the Hold was in danger. Unless something had happened to him.”  _ Vatna paced around the Undercroft while the god was looking at the Arcanist’s experiments.

“ _ If something truly devastating happened to the Hold, we would have heard about it in the Land of Dreams,”  _ Himnar assured her.

“ _ You’re right,”  _ Vatna nodded. “ _ Let’s go to sleep then, and ask around. Maybe one of the gods has visited other parts of the Land recently, and brings news from across the Veil.” _

_ “And in the morning, you can ask the Paragon of Orzammar for help. I believe he might have some firsthand information on lyrium smugglers.”  _ Vatna frowned when she understood the implications.

_ “He does? Frostbite, I should’ve waited in the gardens with Morrigan. Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” _

_ “It’s better not to interfere with reunions of long separated lovers,”  _ the god reminded her, and Vatna sighed. She retrieved her sleeping bag from the chest and fell into a deep slumber in the Undercroft, lulled by the sound of the waterfall. It was a good place for dreaming.

**

The only thing better than Morrigan naked beneath a half-dozen candles was seeing her clad only in moonlight. Unfortunately, ‘in the middle of a populated fortress’ made that thought less than reasonable to keep reacting to. Plus, Kieran had nightmares when Urthemiel’s soul pushed out memories. “So, why am I here instead of you coming to meet me somewhere sensible?”

She stretched, still alabaster and ebony. “Because I did not summon you to rut, pleasant as that is. There are matters that concern not just the Inquisition but yourself. The Carta has been smuggling red lyrium.”

“Lyrium is blue, woman.”

“Ah, not when it is Blighted.”

He sat up. “Sodding Ancestors. Lyrium can be  _ Blighted?  _ Please tell me this is a desperate ploy for attention and a second go.” If it had been a decade ago, it would have been possible. Instead, he watched her somber eyes. Despite the sweat still drying on her skin, there was no sparkle. “You’re serious. So, some Blighter thought it was a good idea to mess with something that can maybe destroy the world, just for coin?”

She shrugged. “There was coin. What I do not know is how it ties to your House.”

He winced. “That’s a low blow.” He’d spent a couple of years trying to clean up the disaster he’d set up, accidental or no. Then he’d taken off after what Morrigan thought might lead to a cure, and now this. Blast everything. “Fine. I’ll start looking into things. With you, me, and Leliana, it’ll almost be old times.”

“Mayhap.” For Morrigan, that meant ‘no.’ “The Inquisitor...is not what the stories tell. She will have her own suggestions. Take heed.”

Farin scratched his chin, hidden by his beard. If she was suggesting such a thing - she respected either the woman or her knowledge. Well, then. “Let’s get some sleep.”

**

Vatna woke up in the pleasant cold of the morning. The rising sun was illuminating the Undercroft, light scattered by the droplets of the waterfall. Journey to the distant parts of the Land of Dreams proved to be fruitless; the Avvar Dreamer did not encounter any messengers of the Lady of the Skies that would be able to tell her about the Two-Falcon Hold. The gods were in the dark as much as she was - or were not telling. Beings from the other side of the Veil loved to talk in riddles.

She rolled up the sleeping bag and hid it in the chest. Dagna should be here soon, ready to continue her research on red lyrium. Vatna left her a note with the theory she and Himnar had developed. She could spare no time waiting for the Arcanist, even if it was just a few breaths. There was a new visitor in Skyhold who might be holding valuable information, and Vatna learned well not to ignore any source of knowledge, whoever it might be. Especially if that visitor was someone as secretive as the Grey Warden who ended the Blight. She should probably thank him. After all, it was his doing that purified the Mad Dragon’s Soul, and as a result, ended Vatna’s Dreams of the dark plague engulfing the world.

**

Vatna directed her steps towards the gardens. She expected Morrigan to be there, though perhaps the witch was not expecting the Dreamer to wake up so early. There were two voices coming from the far corner of the garden, and even if Vatna wasn’t be able to hear them, Himnar would have no problems with that. He could detect the faintest whispers from the other side of the castle. 

“...that’s it, then?”

Morrigan, sitting very close to the dwarf, shrugged. Neither had noticed her yet, facing the small grove rather than the path Vatna had chosen to reach it. “What else would there be to hide? Mayhap I should have written, but it has taken me some time to make my own peace with it. Kieran seems to have taken no harm, so there is that.” Her voice was the most unguarded - and least edged - Vatna had ever heard it.

“Blessed day,” she said loudly, to warn the witch that there was another person in the gardens, before she could unwittingly overhear the rest of the conversation.

“Sodding Void.”

“Hush. This is who I wanted you to meet.” Now Morrigan glanced over her shoulder. “Vatna, please join us.”

The Avvar took a good look at the dwarf who was accompanying Morrigan. He appeared older than she had seen him through Himnar’s eyes; using her own, she could inspect his features more closely. Not much shorter than most dwarves, his hair, moustache, and beard had streaks of grey woven among the dark brown. The tattoo on his face was interesting. She recognized the small symbol of the casteless dwarves - she had seen it several times when dwarven merchants visited her Hold. The casteless Paragon - it was something unusual, even among Paragons, if she understood correctly.

“Welcome to Skyhold, Farin Brosca,” she said, quietly this time, while studying his eyes. His gaze wandered off to the hold-beast on Vatna’s shoulder. Then he shrugged and returned his attention to her.

“Thanks. Vatna, Morrigan said?” His eyes were opaque as she was studied in turn. Unlike so many Lowlanders, he didn’t squint or frown or sneer arrogantly when noticed the ‘barbarian’ for the first time. “She also said you’re the reason she asked me to come. I’m all done with my hero-ing, though. You have to ask your Inquisitor for that, or Herald, or whatever she is.”

“I’m afraid there is no ‘Herald’,” Vatna replied with a slight smile. “The Inquisitor is right here, however.” 

Morrigan chuckled. 

“Impossible woman. That would have been useful information.” The dwarf got to his feet as he muttered at his...wife, still not much more than half her height. “Since you know who I am, Farin’s enough. I’m just as fond of the rest of the titles as it seems you are.” His dark eyes studied hers, then his moustache twitched. “Since you’re already the Great Hero, you don’t need another one. In that case, what can I do for you?”

“Help the Inquisition investigate who’s behind the transports of red lyrium that are coming from the Frostback Mountains. I am told that you possess some information that could aid us in finding the source,” Vatna announced. She tilted her head, curious what the dwarf would say to that.

“Information? Maybe. I know the Carta pretty well. I’m more useful going with if you have any leads on where they are.” His voice was grudging. “Do you?”

“That’s best discussed with Leliana.”

He snorted. “Carta in the mountains, miles from civilization? We’re better off just leaving and seeing what your friend there can scout. Or Morrigan. She’s good at that, among other things.”

“Insufferable man.” The witch’s voice was almost fond. “I won’t go. I must take care of Kieran and continue my research. You two will manage, I am sure.”

Vatna nodded. She has learned what she considered the most important things about Farin, as he must have learned about her from this short conversation. She could count on the fact that he was not one to waste time. The rest, she had to discover on the road.

“We shall leave. Today.” She glanced at Farin.

“Figures.” The mutter didn’t have any heat. “It’s got to get done. Let me eat breakfast with my son, and I’ll be ready. Guess it’s good I didn’t unpack.”


	2. The Hold and the Carta

Mountains. It had to be mountains. The woman next to him was at least a pleasant companion - she didn’t sing or shout and knew how to handle the wilderness. They were headed south - it meant there were more woods than he’d had coming this way. “Has your falcon seen anything?” He’d been able to tell what smugglers generally hid under and how their camps would look.

“No, nothing out of the ordinary yet. There’s a mother bear with her cubs further along the path, and I would rather not anger her. Do you know how to climb?” she inquired as if it was an everyday activity.

Farin sighed. Of course. “My legs are all of a foot and a half long, Vatna. Sure. Let’s go up. It’s better than bothering the cubs.”

“It’s not steep,” she assured him. “And I’ll make harness for you. Or prop you up with magic if you want.”

Harness, or magic? Harnesses were reliable. Plus, then there was magic left over. Then again… “How much do you climb?” He decided to make sure.

“I used to climb every day. When I became the Inquisitor, once a week. Those pesky Lowlanders want something from me all the time,” she snarked.

He laughed. “You’re almost as much fun as Morrigan. Harness. I’ve lived rough, but dwarves and heights don’t usually go well together. Shocking, I’m sure.”

“Some of your people have visited my Hold every once in a while. I imagine they must have been quite used to the heights,” the Avvar pointed out.

He was already shifting his weapons, moving his sword to a makeshift back rig and checking his daggers. “They’re deviants,” he insisted, moustache twitching. “No  _ real  _ dwarf likes heights. It explains what went so wrong with Orzammar. Have you been there? Seventy-foot towers, carvings all the way up - the place was run by deviants. After you - or at least, after your falcon. I’m not going to see the way up. I’m better at the whole  _ down  _ thing.” 

“Good. We’re going to be coming down the hillside soon enough,” she retrieved a long piece of rope out of her backpack. She began making the harness, twisting the rope in a tangle of complicated knots. “I have never been to Orzammar. The underground is not a good place for an Avvar. You can’t see the sky from down there.”

“There is that,” he grunted as he started fitting the harness over his armor. “Also no trees. Or actual herbs, just mushrooms, lichen, and mold. Add that to the casual cruelty, and I’d rather be just about anywhere else.”

“Tell me that after we’ve reached the  _ real  _ Frostbacks, and I’ll believe you,” the corner of her mouth went up.

He laughed back, keeping it muted for the sake of what she’d mentioned ahead. “Remind me and I will.”

**

The Avvar settlement was a strange place, made up of houses that were built right on the side of a mountain. Farin wondered how people go out for a night piss and don’t fall down, then remembered the way his companion spidered up the cliffs. Her tribesmen immediately surrounded Vatna, bombarding her with questions about her time spent in the Lowlands, and whether she came back for good. Only two or three of them actually noticed that she arrived with a dwarf, and when they did, they only asked if he brought something to trade. Vatna quickly explained that the purpose of her visit was to deal with red lyrium smugglers, and her companion was there to help with the task.

“Father, I have to talk with Sjor and Jokka,” Vatna turned to a man who looked just like her.

“So you didn’t hear?” the man replied grimly. Vatna frowned.

“No, I didn’t. I haven't received a message from you for over a month. What happened?” This time, her voice tightened and rose. That was a first, which meant it was also bad.

“Sky Watcher is sick. He was performing an augury on top of the Grey Peak, alone, when he saw some dwarven merchants on the abandoned trail,” Vatna’s father glanced at Farin, who kept his face calm, “and went downhill to meet them. They were not the ones that usually trade with the Hold. So he started asking questions, and then they attacked him.“ Vatna clenched her fists but remained silent. “He managed to kill one of them, but the rest got out. It was over a moon ago, he’s still recovering. The blade might’ve been poisoned, but Jokka couldn’t detect anything.”

Vatna mouthed a curse and turned to Farin.  _ Shit.  _ This was bad. It was also outrageously stupid, but that didn’t matter now.

“Do you know what kind of poison they would’ve used?” her eyes wide enough that he could actually see the edge of white around them. This Skywatcher was important.  _ Augury.  _ Must be another mage. Must be. A poison that would last a month?

Farin scratched under his beard as he thought. “There are two or three I can think of,” he said carefully. “If...I’d have to have a look. Then find what I need for an antidote.” He didn’t think the mage was in any short-term danger; these new smugglers, though, were dangerous. They had nothing to lose in a way that still lodged under a rib, and didn’t really have anyone to give them useful advice. It was even a worse nightmare than Jarvia’s own delusions back when he was dealing with the Blight. 

“Good. Then we’re leaving at dawn,” the look in her eyes changed to determination.

**

After leaving the Hold, it took another day and a half to find the trail of some smugglers. The only way to know was to get closer, but there was a chance. He’d gotten directions and the lay of the land often enough through a bird’s eyes that he scratched out Vatna’s descriptions on the scrap of level dirt they’d found. “If I’ve got this right, then they should be making their way here, through this cut in the hills.”

“They could’ve chosen a better path than that.”

“I know, but they’re dwarves. That means they’re not going to like following a ridgeline, even if it’s easier. We don’t think like that. It’s too much space, especially if your falcon saw brands. Brands means they’re from Orzammar. Took me years to adjust to things like a horizon.”

“Then let’s use that for our advantage. Approach them from the side that they least expect.”

He considered her. “Why not both? Let me get ahead and meet them on their path, then have you ready above? You’re damned good in the mountains; we’re still far from any holds, right? They wouldn’t expect you. I’m also useless while slithering down the side of a mountain. Trust me on that one.”

“I’ve seen. Good, then the plan is set. I’ll climb up to that ledge,” she pointed to a slab of rock was glued to an almost vertical mountain slope, “and wait for them to pass underneath.”

**

Vatna was crouching on the narrow rock that was barely sticking out from the wall of granite. She listened to the wind, waiting for the smugglers to approach her hiding place. Farin was standing below; he’d done things like this before. He’d found somewhere in the middle of the path that let her see him, not be seen by the approaching smugglers, and where if she had to join, there was a good likelihood she’d be behind them.

He was re-braiding part of his moustache, leaning against the bole of a fir tree, when shadows started to resolve into people. “Nice day for a walk,” Farin called out.

“You don’t want to be here, salroka.” The response was heavy with the scent of violence. _Salroka…_ _What could this word mean?_ Vatna wondered.

“Not really,” her companion admitted easily. “I’d much rather be wrapped up with my woman, but she’s the one who mentioned smugglers were messing with something dangerous. So here I am, not happy about life, hoping you’re smuggling something friendly and know where I can find the others.” 

They still hadn’t shown their faces - at least not from above. “You’re in the wrong place.”

He tied off the braid, hands still away from his weapons. “No,” and now Farin’s camaraderie had its own steel under the velvet humor, “it’s starting to sound like I’m in the right place. Come on, _salroka,” _the word was ironic, “step out so we can talk to each other friendly-like. I grew up Carta. We can find an arrangement.”

Vatna leaned a bit over the edge. What in Korth’s Might was this dwarf doing? An arrangement with red lyrium smugglers? Even from up here, she could feel the slight temperature change caused by those rotten crystals. The heat was coming from the woods.

A figure stepped out, the brand across his face deep and ugly with scarring. Farin hissed out the breath he’d just taken. “Oh, I know. I know all about your history, salroka. Or should I say  _ Paragon?”  _

_ Great,  _ Vatna thought.  _ They know each other from Orzammar. How is this going to change things? Is Farin going to betray me?  _ That was a possibility, though the voice of the smuggler was ice cold when he spoke. Vatna looked into the sky in search of Himnar. If the “Paragon of Orzammar” was going to switch sides, she needed the hold-beast’s help. Preparing for the worst, she pulled on the link connecting them.

“Rotin.” Farin’s voice was quiet now. “You don’t want to do this. Not the red stuff. I’ll pay you double to hand it over, enough to find a different life. This’s quicksand.”

“You’d  _ already  _ given me a ‘new life,’ don’t you remember? All of us.” Five others joined him; their brands might be different, but they were all puckered and poorly healed. “No,  _ Paragon,  _ I don’t think we’re interested in hearing your lies any longer. I also don’t think you’re leaving.”

The falcon silently landed on Vatna’s shoulder. She was amazed how none of the dwarves looked up even once. And strangely, she was relieved by what that “Rotin” has said. At least now, she was sure that the smugglers were going to end up dead.

Farin shook his head. “I messed up, but you don’t want to do this. Rotin, Plinka...you’ve got sisters still in the House. It took me too long to fix things, but they’re safe. You’re old enough to remember Behrat and Jarvia; I don’t want to have to tell them the same thing I’ve told too many Dusters. I’ve got coin on me. Depending how much you’re carrying, I might have to get more. Hand the stuff over.” His voice tightened. “It’s  _ Blighted.  _ All this stuff is going to do is kill you, plus the client’s dead. I’m the best offer you’re going to get. Anything anyone else promised? It’s a false seam. They  _ lost.” _

Has Farin frozen off his mind? He was still trying to strike an arrangement with the smugglers. They should already be rotting next to their cursed transport. Their bones should be gnawed clean by the wolves and then drown in the snow. Vatna remembered how Sjor looked, laying in his bed in the augurs’ house, slipping in and out of consciousness. She only needed a pretext to attack, one sign from the Carta dwarves that they might turn hostile, one finger reaching for a blade. 

Luckily for her, at least one of the smugglers was willing to answer her prayers. A knife flew out. Farin ducked faster than she’d expected, his own daggers sparking in his hands. “That was stupid,” he sighed. Four of the five charged; one of the women held back. Rotin had his throat slit before Vatna could throw her axe into his head and split it in half**,** and the others had already moved to circle Farin. _Pack tactics. _

Himnar dived down with unnatural speed, and Vatna jumped down from the ledge. She rolled over her shoulder, strengthening her joints with magic, to lessen the impact. The dwarf closest to Farin dropped down from another one of his daggers, and the next one had his throat gashed by Vatna’s axe. The falcon got to the last one and gouged out his eyeballs.

Before either Himnar or Vatna could move toward the woman -  _ Plinka -  _ Farin was moving her way. “Well?” He watched her. “Offer’s still open. Well, it is so long as you didn’t poison someone twice your size.”

The dwarf shook her head. “Just cargo. I remembered...I didn’t want to get into anything... She really is ok?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Can’t fix a cracked gem, but Bhelen’s dissolved the Assembly and the Shapers know they’re next if they push too hard. She’s fine, still unbranded and fancies a Merchant Caste boy. Well, not a boy. Vatnar’s son. Take it, Plinka.”

When she didn’t answer, he untied a clinking pouch and tossed it her way. She caught it. Then she found her voice, though the words were short. “Back in the trees, three bronto lengths. Two crates, and it  _ hums.”  _

Farin nodded. “Who’s your supplier?”

“Ser Carroll. He’s…”

“I’ve met him. He was a nug’s behind ten years ago.”

She snorted. “He’s an angry one now, but the coin’s been there.”

_ Gold for the fools that would agree to handling something so dangerous,  _ Vatna sneered.

The dwarf woman was ready to leave, but Vatna blocked her path.

“Are you really going to let her go?” she looked at Farin with cold eyes. Himnar returned to her and was now sitting on her shoulder. The god agreed that safety of the hold came first, though the method to achieve it could prove dangerous. 

_ “He will attack if you try to touch her,”  _ Himnar warned.

“ _ Then we will have to be quick,”  _ Vatna replied. “ _ Push hard.” _

Farin looked at her. “Yeah. She’s not Tainted, and I know why they started all of this. You heard her. No poison - that’s not her line. She’s done, she’s sold out the client - which is who really matters - and she’s not going to do it again. Right?”

Plinka shook her head. “No profit and no sense. I knew it was a Deep Lord’s bargain, but what choice did I have?” She brushed the scar across her face. “Sixteen of us. The routes are all on Rotin. There was some strong-arming, but no blood I know of. Maybe I’ll convert. The Chantry doesn’t care about what the Stone thinks of me.” 

Farin winced, but met her eyes again and agreed softly. “Yeah. You do that.” He paused. “Plinka. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t care who she is to you,” Vatna interrupted him. “The smugglers endangered my hold and almost killed my mentor. I have to know if she’s telling the truth,” she said and grabbed Plinka’s forearm. At the same time, she created a dome of ice around them, too thick to be shattered in one blow.

Himnar touched the mind of the dwarf, though it was like diving into a lake of pure granite. Children of the Stone were always more resistant to the gods’ influence, especially the ones who could hear the whispers from below. Through the hold-beast’s eyes, Vatna saw glimpses of foreign thoughts, foreign feelings, so different from hers. Maps, routes, Carta dwarves. Among other memories, image of her sisters, always hiding in the back of her mind. Faces, not branded. Through the sounds from the past, Vatna could hear the noise of cracking ice and loud curses.

Plinka was telling the truth.

Vatna let the dwarven woman go. She dissolved the wall of ice, jumped away from Farin’s daggers, and quickly created another barrier, this time made of spirit energy.

“I wasn’t going to kill her, unless she was lying,” she said harshly, awaiting Farin’s reaction. She had no feud with him, only the smugglers of red lyrium.

“She’d already said she didn’t know about any poison!” He glared, then shook his head. “Ancestors give me strength,” he muttered almost too low to hear, then went over and started pulling off the first corpse’s armor. Any paper he found, he dropped in a pile. “Take the coin, Plinka - all of it. I’m just here for information and to stop people from acting like sunfried idiots.”

She hesitated, then dropped another bundle of folded papers. “Farin…”

He shook his head. “I should have sooner, I know. These idiots aren’t the only ones who got sunfried. Good luck.”


	3. Uneasy Allies

He gave directions, but didn’t talk to his travelling companion for a day and a half other than to say none of the papers talked about the attack or poison. Not after that. Plinka...sod it all, she couldn’t have done anything bad. She was too sodding nice to be a Duster. It’s why she’d been a noble hunter, not that any nobles would go near her any longer. Instead, he shut up and focused on the grueling pace Vatna set whenever he pointed her toward the next pass. 

She was going to kill them, and for what? Revenge? Poor Blighters hadn’t even known what happened. They hadn’t known what the lyrium was; creepy stuff, it twigged him worse than going too far under the Deep Roads. The cold did help, at least. It was still  _ wrong. _

Why had Plinka and Rotin decided to transport it? Did they trust their senses and instincts that little? More sand grated across what was left of his conscience. No. He knew that was the answer. No, they didn’t. None of them would, and the drivel the Shaperate spewed at them when they pulled that ‘reBranding’ nonsense would have made them trust their instincts even  _ less.  _

What would happen next? At least he knew this route was leading to Carroll, not more former members of his House that he’d failed by sodding off. If she killed the Templar, he wouldn’t care. Might even be a mercy based on what Morrigan had told him.

Once they’d set camp, his ignored the faint twinge of relief from the cave, muttered random syllables, and stepped into the dark and snow. He didn’t want to go too far, but something about nights like this reminded him of Morrigan. They  _ also  _ reminded him of that first trip back to Orzammar, but he could ignore that. And Leske. The air puffed out in front of him. His bones ached, but they did that most winters now. Too many broken bones. Too many memories.

“Have you ever seen what red lyrium does to people?” she asked suddenly. Of course she’d followed him out.

He shook his head. “Seen what the regular stuff can, if you’re not careful. I’ve heard, but that’s it.”

“Then prepare yourself. Whoever this ‘Ser Carroll’ was to you - friend, enemy, nobody at all - you’ll see why I have to do what I’m doing.”

His breath fogged out in front of him as he refused to look back. She wasn’t any older than Plinka. “No,” he said quietly. “I heard the same arguments from Wardens. I heard the same arguments from sodding nobles, or from the Captain who said the only way to save the Vigil was to burn a town. We choose how we treat the people who are just trying to get by. Carroll? He set this up and needs to be put down. Someone with no good options who’s just trying to eat is different, Vatna. Harsh as the Surface is, Orzammar’s worse. I trust you about the mountains and the lyrium. If you can’t do the same about the people I  _ know,  _ then we’ve got a problem.”

“Do you honestly think that I’m some bloodthirsty barbarian, sacrificing the Lowlanders on altars of my blasphemous gods?” 

He fought down his temper as she painted him with someone else’s pigment. Farin knew from decades ago how useless shouting at someone was. Even if their ears had been open, it was the fastest way to shut them. 

“I told you that I wasn’t going to kill Plinka. She did not attack us. I only killed the dwarves that attacked  _ you.  _ Where was you trust then? Maybe it was misplaced,” she paused and looked into the sky, as she often did, looking for her falcon. “I bet there were plenty of people who saw only a cutthroat from the Carta in you, back in your Wardening days. So if you can’t trust me when I say that I do not strike  _ unprovoked _ , then we have nothing to talk about.”

Oh, he remembered those days. The salt in still-open wounds burned. “No, not as a Warden, not til I got to Orzammar. I wasn’t a cutthroat. I was a bonebreaker when I couldn’t charm them. I wasn’t a  _ cutthroat  _ til that was the only way to get an ass on Orzammar’s throne. Look, girl, you didn’t say anything about not hurting her, and I’ve never said  _ anything  _ about your gods or your people. Mine worship a sodding  _ rock,  _ I know better than to mock anyone else’s.” Farin fought for calm. It shouldn’t be this hard. “You said you wanted the truth then wrapped you and Plinka in ice. What was I supposed to think? No one can live out here without being able to be cruel - no different than anywhere other than those Surfacer farms.” 

He sighed, trying to get the taste of those days out of his mouth. No wonder so many turned to alcohol or worse. Well, if she was listening, he’d keep talking. 

“I’m here to help you. Morrigan wanted me here more than in her bed or playing with our son, and I’ve not seen her in two and a half years. Telling me you wouldn’t hurt her after is good, but that’s after. I suppose I should shout or something, but I’ve never really been able to. I’m saying I had no idea what you were doing.”

“Next time I shall feel the need to dive into the mind of someone who might be purposefully hiding the truth, I will warn you beforehand. It might make it more difficult to read their thoughts, once they realize what I’m doing, or even destroy them. There’s a reason why you didn’t hear the rumours about the Inquisitor that breaks people’s minds. Because I don’t do it, unless I have to. This red lyrium operation will harm hundreds of people if we don’t put an end to it. Other people that you may care about. Who are not involved in smuggling, who are completely innocent, who live on the other side of the continent.”

He tossed the words back and forth, pondering them. It  _ was  _ brutal. What lyrium could do was, too. Could they trust his judgement? Could they trust hers? “If they’ve got those ugly brands, ask. Please.” His breath fogged out again. “They  _ were  _ my people, up until I was an idiot. Carroll? He was dumb as rocks, pardon to the rocks that’re listening, twelve years ago. I’m sure he’s dumber now. You know the Surface, Vatna. I know the smugglers they’re using.” It was so hard to push them out, but tired didn’t matter, not with what he’d done to them. He watched the faint moonlight on the snow when his breath cleared enough to see it. “If I think they’re lying, I’ll ask you to find out your way. Is that fair?”

“Fair enough,” she replied briefly.

He sighed again. At least he was out of Orzammar, and this time legitimately. He had something that needed doing, not just what he wanted to do.


	4. Beginning to Trust

Vatna could feel that the air was slightly warmer than it should be this time of the year, in this part of the Mountains. Worse, it was vibrating, as if the stone was shaking deep under the surface, producing a humming sound that couldn’t be mistaken for the whistle of the cold wind.

“Can you hear it?” she asked Farin. They were going to reach the heart of red lyrium smuggling operation in just a moment. She doubted that the dwarf would be shocked by anything that awaited them, unless it was affecting one of  _ his _ people.

He grunted. “Yeah. Stone doesn’t like it. This’ll be ugly.”

“Ugly? Perhaps. I would use a different word.”  _ Revolting. Cursed. Deadly. _

Himnar lowered his flight and began to circle above Vatna and Farin. That meant the danger was near.

“Go ahead. I’d rather not  _ provoke _ any smugglers that might be hiding there. They don’t like the Avvar poking around their cargo,” as the words left her mouth, she felt a twinge of rage burning in her soul, one that had not completely left her ever since she saw what happened to Sky Watcher. Even Himnar began to worry. Vatna was always able to reign in her emotions, especially if they were interfering with the mission. This time was different. This time, her mentor’s life was at stake.

Farin slid down. “They’re not likely to be happier with me, but I can usually keep them talking longer. If I shout, that’s bad.” The day was light enough for silver to shimmer in his hair. 

**

He had a bad feeling about this one. Really bad. His skin itched. Instead of his usual ‘avoid it,’ though, there was a building desire to  _ do  _ something about it.  _ Sodding Stone.  _ He could say that. He  _ was  _ a living Ancestor. Even if, in this case, the Stone was right. Whatever Red Lyrium could do, it wasn’t supposed to exist.  _ Tainted.  _ That probably made it worse.

Then that faint sense of  _ something  _ twinged. It wasn’t Darkspawn. It wasn’t even - quite - the piles of red lyrium. No, this was moving. It was  _ also  _ really bad. Really, really bad. “I’m too old for this,” he muttered to himself. “Carta aren’t supposed to live past forty, even the smart ones. Ancestors are supposed to start off dead.” Well, if he was dead he couldn’t see Morrigan and Kieran, and he wouldn’t have been able to fix his mistakes and save  _ most  _ of his House. “Sodding responsibilities.” 

He didn’t mean it, not any longer. Oh, a couple years ago he had. Then he’d gone back and seen fear in the eyes of those kids again, instead of the happiness and hope he had the last time...Ancestors, that’d been six years ago. No. He wasn’t going to let kids suffer for his mistakes, not any more.

That Vatna wasn’t actually much older than a kid. He needed to remember that. Smart and capable, sure, but she was younger than he’d been when he’d first… nevermind that, he already knew he was old. Rather than worrying about that, he kept moving until he felt the air tighten. Once you’d been Carta, part of you was always looking for the dagger in the back. It was useful when Bhelen had been ass enough to make him a Paragon; the Deep Lords weren’t any better. “Bad idea,” he said conversationally. “You know that. I don’t care what the human’s said, you can smell when a deal’s gone up in smoke.”

Where were they? Dwarves didn’t really climb, so he wasn’t worried about the branches overhead. The really unpleasant twinge of something Tainted was off to the left, a couple hundred feet if he had to guess. There was the pile of boulders, and the baby cliff with an icefall. Not enough chittering from over by the pine tree - yeah, it was thick enough. If there were sixteen all told, that left eleven. Assume half...six or seven, he figured. Plus that Tainted person. Well, he’d hope for six.

“What would you know?”

It  _ hurt  _ to hear someone so bitter, but he deserved that slice. “Same’s you, Duster.”

_ “You’re  _ not that any more.”

“You know better. You never get the dust out. Deep Lords never really let you.” They were all so young. No wonder. Well, he’d hate himself later. Rather than worry about that, he drew a dagger and - hm, if this Tainted person was one of those red Templars - he went for his mace. Nice and trusty, and fitted with frost and paralyzation runes. The dagger spun in his hand as Farin kept taking those slow, easy steps. “Stay out of the way, we can talk after the blood. Get involved, and it’s all on you.”

**

Vatna observed from above, as she had during their first encounter with the smugglers. Just like then, the dwarves had their eyes glued to the ground level. One was standing behind the pine tree; two were crouching next to a formation of rocks, their heads barely hidden; and the last two gathered by the frozen waterfall. Himnar said that he didn’t spot more of them. Perhaps the rest were waiting in the cave, a short walk to the south of the clearing. That must have been the place where they were harboring red lyrium.

Farin began talking to the smugglers. His tone appeared casual, but there was a sharp edge just below the surface of his words. Vatna knew he wasn’t stupid. The Carta members might’ve been his people, even his kin, since the concept of a dwarven “House” was vaguely similar to the idea of an Avvar clan, but their loyalty was under question. And if the other group was representative of the smugglers as a whole, then the majority of them would not be interested in anything that Farin could offer. Yet he wished to be proven wrong.  _ He wants to take that risk, so be it. At least he’s not easy to kill,  _ Vatna concluded. She did not aspire to inform Morrigan and Kieran that something bad had happened to him.

She watched Farin as he slowly moved forward, making each step with certain deliberation. Like a lone wolf, old and battle-hardened, walking among the pack that he used to be a part of.

If they were exiled unjustly, his attempt may be valuable. It also may mean fewer to fight and a better chance to stop the lyrium.


	5. Traps Sprung Early

He didn’t even bother to look for them, not when he was much more comfortable on the Surface than any of his former House would be. Surface Carta didn’t worry him. They didn’t know him other than his reputation. He might take a cut or two, but the constant rasps of the Stone and Taint were really pissing him off. 

“This is going to get ugly, because I’m sodding done with this. I’m your only chance to walk away. Pick a side or stay out.” Farin hated the tension; it’s why he’d avoided Orzammar so much, but at least this was a half-dozen people and not the sodding Shaperate. The silence shifted around him. Good enough. Someone might not trust him, but they believed him. One benefit to never making threats, he supposed.

One shout sprang out from the waterfall, but the commotion didn’t come near him. He’d love to help whoever had sense, but he didn’t have time - or any real way to know which was which. The lost advantage of any hope for surprise was balanced against the fact he had fewer knives at him. Worth it. He’d promised Kieran...and himself. The cave hurt; on the other hand, he was a Warden. If it felt like shit, that’s where you went. He didn’t think it would be deep.

The bloody pit was almost the same size as the Proving Ground. Well, the Stone liked her patterns - and irony. He got his real start at life because of a Proving Ground twelve years ago paired with a Warden’s gaze - now  _ he  _ was the Warden walking into a Stone-made Proving Ground with the ally his Surfacer...partner wanted him to support. At least his real target was in the center, shifting uneasily. The hum against his bones  _ hurt  _ now, worse than the winter ice.

“Who are  _ you?  _ You’re not who was supposed to come.” The voice was hoarse and gruff, straining around the softer syllables. Farin  _ really  _ didn’t like those words. No one expected him, but who was  _ supposed  _ to? He had a feeling.

This monstrosity in a Templar’s armor was looking for a juicier target; one that cared about her isolated people, one who was young enough to still have blind temper. “Sorry to disappoint, Carroll.” 

He looked, but with what happened he couldn’t tell if this wreckage had been the stuffy, self-righteous idiot he’d encountered outside Kinloch’s Circle during the Blight. Even Morrigan wasn’t sure how the red lyrium would affect him, given he was still Tainted, though she suspected it would give him some protection from its effects. 

“Then again, you’re bigger than me and...more colorful. Are you as much of a coward as your fellows, or are you going to try mop me up yourself?”

**

“Excellent trap,” Vatna said loudly and stepped into the cave.  _ The most experienced Master of the Hunt could not devise a better one.  _ “If I was accompanied by anyone else, I would’ve run head first into these glyphs. Paralyzation, right?” she pointed to the spot on the ground next to the Red Templar. 

The dwarves did not know it, but their routes were carefully planned with one goal in mind. The smugglers were supposed to follow the abandoned trails surrounding the Two-Falcon Hold. Eventually, someone would confront them about their strange behaviour. It could’ve been the Sky Watcher, or a group of hunters, or even Vatna’s sister on her way home from the river. Any member of the Hold would suffice. Vatna was supposed to find out and take revenge. Kill the smugglers, look for the source of red lyrium, come here and fall into an ambush.

She waited for more magic to flow into her axe. There could be more to this trap. Farin was caressing the haft of his mace with his thumb, dagger loose and ready in his off hand.

“Your Magister is dead,” she announced, looking around the cave. There must’ve been at least six mages here, lurking in the shadows. “The Old Imperium will never be reborn, and you will never retake any part of its lands. Even your predecessors couldn’t claim these Mountains.” She leaned towards Farin and whispered “Get ready for an inferno,” creating a strong barrier around them. As she expected, an explosion of fire crashed against a dome of spirit energy protecting Vatna and her ally. Himnar continued to stream the magic from the Land of Dreams to Vatna. Her eyes began to gleam, the power leaving her body as quickly as it was entering. She was only a temporary vessel for a river of gods’ blessing.  _ Lady and Korth, give me strength. _

The firestorm ended. The Ventori mages shouted something in Tevene.

“I’ll get the ones on the right,” Vatna said to Farin and conjured a skin-tight barrier, fit for close-quarters fighting. “Expect more heat.” The mages were there to counter Vatna, and it wasn’t a secret that she favoured ice.

The Avvar gathered more mana and when her reservoir was on the verge of overflowing, she set it free to clash with the enemy spellcasters.

The Red Templar began slowly marching towards Vatna, each move producing a crackle of crystals and wave of hot wind.

**

There was a shuffle behind him; the dwarves they’d moved past, if he had to guess. If they decided to switch sides that would be great. If not, this just got harder. He dropped a flask; it wasn’t the choking smoke of the Surface or the heavy stuff of Orzammar, but a concoction of his and Morrigan’s creativity. It fluffed up to twice his height - Vatna couldn’t see over once it reached her, but her falcon  _ could -  _ and then exploded out. 

Farin had too much experience to charge forward. Instead he took three steps to the side, feeling the blaze of fire go through where he ‘should’ have been. Unfortunately for them, fire did nothing to the smoke. Fortunately for  _ him,  _ that fire blast let him know where one of them was. 

He stepped forward quietly, able to work with the Stone and knowing Surfacer ears. A ragged breath - sodding humans were too tall to slit throats, so he went for what they wouldn’t expect. He hamstrung the first mage, then drove the slick blade back into his throat before the pain lessened enough for him to scream. There was a commotion back where Carroll was, but he had to trust Vatna would scream - or her falcon - if she needed him. A spell hit him; Farin grunted at the pain, then pulled a flask of acid and tossed it in the direction he  _ thought  _ it came from. A scream let him know he’d only gotten close, but it stopped the spell. Now that he was bleeding, there was no way to hide from these Venatori. 

Another shout was followed by a crunching sound then a hiss. None of them sounded like Vatna - good enough. His mace was enough to crush a ribcage, then he took another blast of fire - the barrier was wavering - and clenched his teeth to find the mage he’d already burned once. There was a wavering sound - a whistle he recognized. 

Either way, time to get Carroll’s attention. His quick work had annoyed the former human - maybe his Warden Taint irritated the man as much as the red lyrium did  _ him?  _ “Hai, your mother was an apostate too stupid to realize she fucked a goat!”  _ You can yell later, Morrigan.  _ There. The red Templar was coming his way, the smoke not changing their sense of the other. He couldn’t duck in time, but it let him take the heavy blow across his shoulder as his teeth buzzed.  _ Taint... _ oh, it was angry. “Ice could help!”

**

Vatna let Himnar handle one of the Venatori while she went for the other two. The Red Templar was the biggest threat, but she couldn’t fight him with the mages on her back. She summoned a hailstorm and let it rain on their barriers. The Venatori easily disintegrated her projectiles with a blast of fire. Then, she conjured a rock encased in ice and threw it at the closest enemy. Her opponent got fooled - he assumed that Vatna would continue with a barrage of cold. The rock shattered the barrier and knocked the mage over. The Avvar finished him with another piece of stone, crushing his skull. Himnar already took care of one Venatori, smothering him with a wave of spirit energy. The last enemy mage on their side of the battlefield was drawing mana from the Land of Dreams and channeling it through his staff. She strengthened her defenses and checked the situation with the Red Templar.

Smoke had started to fill the space up to her head, but she could see some shapes - and Himnar could see more. Three smugglers were circling Carroll. Vatna huffed in surprise.  _ Now they decided to turn against their clients?  _ The Templar swung his arm and one of the dwarves barely avoided having her head squashed between Carroll’s deformed limb and the ground. The female dwarf managed to roll away and Vatna focused back on her opponent. She had no time to help the smugglers, even if they truly were fighting on her and Farin’s side now. It could still be a part of the trap. She couldn’t see how her ally was doing, but the sounds coming from the opposite part of the cave - a noise of breaking bones, followed by high-pitched screams - were promising. 

With Himnar’s help, she quickly pierced through the mage’s barrier, disrupted the spell that he was preparing, and trapped him in a block of ice. Her flank was clear now, but before she had a chance to turn around and face the Red Templar, she heard a complex whistle, and then Farin shouting “Ice could help!”

She glanced over her shoulder and saw that the Red Templar had changed his course. Instead of continuing his march towards Vatna, he directed his rage to Farin and the Carta dwarves. Two smugglers were laying on the ground, and Vatna couldn’t tell if they were dead or unconscious. Carroll’s attack grazed against Farin’s shoulder. She called to Himnar and together they charged on the Templar, following a path on the edge of the Veil. The waves of energy from the Land of Dreams rushed faster than a current of a stream during a spring flood. Vatna let them carry her. Flowers of frost were growing everywhere she stepped on. She passed through the Templar, slipping between the thin gap of the Dreaming and the Waking. A layer of frost coated the red crystals that covered most of his legs, stopping him for a moment, but it was not enough to completely freeze him in place.

Vatna grabbed a vial of lyrium attached to her belt and shouted to Farin:

“Blind him and fall back!”

******

_ Blind him.  _ “Sure, just blind him. What’s the trouble?” His mutters faded into pure profanity. Of all the times for the smoke to start fading, just so she could decide to give advice instead of doing what he asked.  _ Blind him.  _ Of course an Avvar would forget he was a good two to three feet shorter than the hulk he was facing;  _ she  _ wasn’t. Of course, she’d just walked  _ through  _ the lyrium-crusted Templar, so Ancestors only knew what she was capable of - or thought he was.

Unfortunately he wasn’t the only one who could hear. Carroll started...pulsing.  _ This isn’t good.  _ He tossed out a whistle of his own -  _ ‘scatter-other targets’  _ and hoped their unexpected allies would pay attention. At least he had confirmation that some were former House Farin; Nazdeza was pretty careful who knew what her whistles meant. Plus his shoulder  _ hurt.  _

When their quarry pushed out the spray of red projectiles - and that was a sight his nightmares would never forget - Farin dodged as best he could. Three still burrowed into his face. “Shit, Ancestors leave you screaming on the dust!” He didn’t have many other vials. No time - heat wouldn’t work, they were prepped against...well, there was that. He pulled a little one out of its padded satchel as he ducked and spun out of the way of the next crushing blow.  _ Wait for it…  _

When Carroll turned to face him again, he whipped the thin glass at his face. Transparent shards pricked him, and he howled as the liquid poured over his face. Good enough. Farin turned now, dropping his mace for speed and yanking out another dagger. The one mage - she looked as battered as he felt, though he was less...well, acid wasn’t good for the complexion. Another dwarf - it  _ hurt  _ to see those painful ‘new Brands’ - was dancing with her, tossing pebbles from the floor at her face. Oh, that wouldn’t feel good. No wonder she hadn’t gotten off a spell. Well, she wasn’t paying attention to him either, which left both kidneys waiting for the kiss of his silverite.

He grunted to the other dwarf. “Check the mages - Carroll’s mine.” The red lyrium in his face started singing against his blood. Wonderful. At least it sang badly; he ignored it using the tricks he’d picked up during the Blight. They were rusty, but this wasn’t an Archdemon.

“Good,” was the shaky response, and Farin turned back to hope Vatna’d managed to...well, not die for a start. He hadn’t heard screaming, just another of Carroll’s roars.

**

Vatna gasped for air. She had to dodge a rain of red crystals that the enraged Red Templar fired from his body. Her energy source had to be replenished, and Carroll’s attack prevented her from downing that lyrium potion. She jumped away and conjured a weak front barrier that stopped most of the blighted shards. Himnar flew up to the ceiling and flapped his wings, creating a gust of wind that pushed the projectiles back to the one who shot them. Of course, it did nothing to the monster. And then, the Red Templar turned to Farin, still determined to destroy all dwarves that dared to interfere with his task of killing the Inquisitor.

That was Vatna’s chance to drink the potion. She uncorked the vial and gulped down all of it. In the middle of this, Farin had done something, shouting some kind of dwarven curse. The red Templar roared and pawed at his face, and the dwarf fell back.  _ He is not just retreating,  _ Himnar informed her; the dwarf had returned to deal with the Venatori he’d been facing earlier. One was still up, though with raw strips of flesh where skin had once been along her cheek and neck. He and another dwarf used their own tactics. The rest didn’t matter; she had more important things to worry about. One specific  _ thing,  _ the monstrosity now open to her own attack.

The Avvar got up and channeled the newfound energy through the lyrium core of her axe. The weapon began glowing, and intricate lines of frost covered the surface of the blade. Farin and the other dwarf were still busy with getting rid of the last Venatori mage.

_ Hakkon, Lord of War and Winter, Master of two bitter colds: frost and steel, let me freeze this bastard’s bones. _

She leaped forward and when her blade made contact with Carroll’s hip, she released all cold she amassed in the axe.

The Red Templar was still alive when she covered him in ice, his horrific form resilient to attacks that would annihilate a living being in seconds. That was his curse, existing on the verge of life and death. Something like that should have never seen the light of day.


	6. Aftermath

Farin got back over just in time to see Carroll actually stopped. He still  _ hummed  _ though, still itched against his own awareness of Taint. Could he cause issues? Vatna’d killed plenty of Red Templars before, right? “Vatna?” He scooped up his mace in his good hand, dropping his daggers until he had time to clean them up. Then he saw the other two bodies, one still moving.  _ “Sod it all,”  _ he hissed. It was battle, it was brutal...but that void in his chest gaped a bit further.

“What?” the Avvar asked, glancing over her shoulder. She raised her axe, ready to strike Carroll down. Then, she looked at the twitching body. “I’ve got this,” she declared, and turned away to finish the Red Templar.

His mace fell to one side, forgotten, as he looked down on the poor man. Twenty, maybe? His beard still hadn’t finished filling in all the way, and his stubbled skull didn’t cover the massive black puckers the Shaperate used to re-Brand him. “Easy,” he said quietly, using his good hand to try flatten the kid’s back against the cave floor. His hip had gotten crushed. “This will hurt.”

Dilated eyes finally met his before the kid nodded. Like this, Farin couldn’t even be sure he’d known the former member of his House - but he still knew even if the name was lost between his lack of care and battle-born pain. The ragged leather armor unbuckled easily enough; when he got past that, he used his boot knife to slice through the rest. Then Farin hissed again. The boy’d taken a chestfull of red lyrium shards. His own cheek hummed in harmony - damn it, he’d have to get them out soon. But this one?

“Feel them...singing...angry...blocks…”

Not a sodding thing he could do. He ignored the too-familiar crunching noises behind him. Vatna was taking her rage out on the person who deserved it. “Yeah,” Farin agreed quietly. “Taint does that.” They were burrowing in; no way he could get them out. Lyrium shouldn’t  _ do  _ something like that. “I can’t save your life.”

The boy’s cracked laugh was almost as monstrous as Carroll, if in an entirely different way. “I know. You were...wanted to  _ be  _ you, even before…” His fingers twitched. “Now…”

Sod it. Sod it  _ all.  _ At least he’d grown up hard enough he didn’t cry. “The Stone  _ will  _ take you as her own, salroka. I don’t give two shits what the Shaperate says. You know they’re wrong.” He willed his words to matter as he snarled out the threat to the Stone. It  _ would  _ take him. Poor duster hadn’t done anything worth  _ this.  _ “Anything you wanted me to pass on?”

The kid shook his head. “Don’t got anyone. Plinka...sent word. Magic...rock. Now. Please, Paragon.”

Farin nodded one last time, then drove his blade in. There was nothing as horrific as feeling a heart still against your dagger, unless it was the moment it quit being horrific. “Ancestors take you,” he murmured. Then he used still-slick fingers to start pulling out the lyrium in his own cheek. It  _ hadn’t  _ started burrowing, just humming to itself where it struck.  _ Guess there’s one good thing to still being a Warden.  _ He dropped them on the corpse that had once been a young man of his House, and turned to face whatever was left of Carroll. Heat roiled in his belly - familiar, not the foreign magic stuff.

Well, Carroll clearly wouldn’t be an issue any longer. He hoped that they could find what the poison had been without having to go through  _ that  _ sodden mess. He caught the eye of the other dwarf. “Looking for poison - or an antidote - brother.”

He nodded and moved to the back, where there were piles of things and the remnants of a camp.

That taken care of, Farin moved to where Vatna could see him, then walked over. At least with her he didn’t have to crouch. “Are you ok?”

The woman’s eyes narrowed.

“Me? I’m fine.” She looked at Farin, and then eyed the other dwarf up and down. “I guess no one needs urgent healing. Let’s find the antidote and get out of here,” she said in a low voice.

“Par..Farin, over here. This is weird.”

Well. If the one who’d been dealing with them said it was weird… “Let’s see what our unexpected friend found.”

**

Vatna followed Farin to a spot where the Magister’s lackeys stored their materials. She examined the camp. What did not burn down, was now covered in soot.

Farin kicked over part of it, then stepped back. “Weird, no. Dangerous, yes. Your name? Imrik, right?”

“Inrick, Farin. Heard what you said.”

“Yeah. We’ll deal with that in a bit. We need a second; check the mages?”

The other dwarf nodded and headed out of earshot.

Farin’s eyes hadn’t left the small pile of shiny stones in the middle of the fire. “There’s something about this that feels familiar - and stupidly dangerous.” He rubbed at the side of his face that  _ wasn’t  _ covered in blood, then stroked his grey-shot moustache. “I can’t read Tevene, though. Is there anything in the papers about pyrite?”

Vatna picked up the paper that he pointed to. She absentmindedly brushed her fingers on Himnar’s wing.

“_What do you see?” _she asked. The god underlined one of the words to her. She only had a few months of experience in reading Tevene, but the spirit learned quicker than her. “_Pyritium. Metal of fire. Also known as Fool’s Gold. And they… used it to create poison? How?”_

_ “Farin should be able to tell you,”  _ Himnar informed her.

“It mentions pyrite,” Vatna said out loud. “How can it be made into a poison? And what’s the antidote?”

He scratched under his chin, eyes narrowed. “Poison? Poison out of pyrite? Sod it all, that’s right. And it’s something your folk would never have found - or any of the poor sods they had smuggling. Nazdeza mentioned something once. Stupidly dangerous, even for poison. You burn the rock. Eventually, you can get something pretty nasty out of it - assuming you survive the roasting. Rock doesn’t burn happily. The antidote is complicated as anything; it’s why the Deep Lords liked it until the Carta ‘forgot’ how to make it in favor of things that didn’t kill  _ them,  _ too. It’s...you’ve got to get it out of the blood. Get something in that can absorb it.” He shook his head. “I have no idea how helpful that is. If you mix plant ashes right with a bit of dried blood - non-poisoned blood - it turns blue. Oh, and it tastes terrible, but that’s not really important.”

“You’re right, it’s not important. What’s important is that I get back to the Hold before it’s too late,” she muttered through gritted teeth. She grabbed all papers laying around the crates, wishing that she could find more information in there. “What do you want to do with the bodies?” she looked at the two dwarves that helped them. She realized that without Farin accompanying her, she most likely would’ve killed them on the way to the cave, one more obstacle to be removed. That was also a part of the trap. At least half of her mana pool would be drained during the fight with the smugglers, and it would leave her weakened when facing the Venatori, if she somehow managed to avoid the paralyzation glyphs.

Farin glanced around. “There’re probably more outside. These two? Bury by preference, to make sure they go back to the Stone. If the one that got hit with red lyrium needs something different, I trust you on that.” He looked her up and down. “I can dig as soon as I get my shoulder back in place. Blasted thing got dislocated again. The valley is decent here - I’d like to camp if we can. Start back in the morning. A half day - even two or three - shouldn’t make a difference for us able to heal him. That’s the thing about this kind of poison. Worst case, he’ll lose some hair; it’ll regrow. If it doesn’t kill right away, it doesn’t for a long while. More than long enough to get the antidote even in Orzammar where we don’t have plants.”

Vatna nodded. “Aye. That’s what we’ll do then. The ones that have been Tainted should be entombed in a stone. It should prevent the Blight from spreading.” She gripped her axe harder. “And whatever’s left in this cave - I shall flood it with ice.”

“Tomorrow,” he suggested. “That way we can do one last sweep when we’re not bloody to make sure there’s nothing we missed.”

“That’s sound advice,” she replied with a slight smile.

**

Vatna would never admit how nervous she felt when she mixed the solution of plant ash salts and dried blood in a pot, then waited for it to turn blue as it slowly heated up. She stifled a sigh of relief when she saw the colour of the liquid changed from crimson red to deep blue.

“That’s it?” asked Stone Seer Jokka, the other augur of Two-Falcon Hold. The house of healing was unusually crowded. In addition to the healers, the patient, there was also a dwarf inside. Under normal circumstances, he would never be invited to this room. But nothing was “normal” anymore.

Vatna glanced at Farin.

“Should be,” he nodded. This time, he didn’t scratch under his streaked beard, but watched with dark eyes. “We put what they had written with what I remembered. Blue was the first step.”

“Now the water has to evaporate,” Vatna repeated the instructions that she had memorized during the trip back to the hold. She could recite them in the middle of the night.

Several breaths later, the antidote was ready. Vatna collected some of the powder into a small wooden bowl, and pressed it into a pea-sized pill.

“Give him one each morning for the next ten days,” she explained to Jokka. Then, she knelt by the Sky Watcher’s bed and gently woke him up. His blue face tattoos looked washed out compared to the vibrant color of the pill.

“You have to swallow it,” Vatna whispered, and helped her mentor lift his head. When she took away her hand from the back of his scalp, she was holding a handful of white hair. One of the signs of the poisoning, she remembered. She clenched her fist, trapping the hair inside.

“We have to go back to Skyhold,” Vatna looked around the room. It was dark outside, so the house was illuminated with a magical orb of light. “I’ll return as soon as I can,” she turned to Jokka, who only nodded in response.

Vatna and Farin left the infirmary, and headed to the house of Vatna’s parents. The other dwarf, Inrick, was already there. They would spend the night there, and leave the Hold at dawn. Vatna raised her head and though she couldn’t see anything but the black sky, she knew that there were two falcons flying high above them.

“I should thank you,” she said quietly.

Farin snorted softly. “It’s fine. It all worked in the end. I’m used to a witch whose tongue is sharper than my own daggers.” His voice dropped the whimsical edge. “You want to do something? Plinka and Inrick. They lost everything because I had my own years of stupid decisions. It’s harder when someone else pays for you, and even now...all I can offer is a short, painful life at best, but they’re not the type to be happy as Wardens.”

Vatna nodded. “We all have to pay for our mistakes, one way or another. I shall pay for mine.”

_ Even if Farin was kind enough to not make her admit she'd made them _ , the hold-beast thought and soared up even higher into the sky.


End file.
